apple, ch 1

The smell of chalk burns through Johnny's nose and his head pounds as he tries to regain his memory of what happened before his blackout.  Peeling his face from the steel table he hears a girl scream in front of him but can only see shadows through his blurred vision.  Where the hell am I?  A chain bites into his flesh and fear pinches his thoughts.  While blinking to fade out the darkness he notices several sets of eyes around him and hears the chocked out scream again.

         "You have to help her!"  A small voice came from his right, "you and him are the the only ones unchained to the chairs."

         Johnny kicks his feet out, his leather boots making an echo of a thud in the room, and sees that the chair to his left is flipped over.

         "That was his chair."  The voice came again.
         
         "What?"  Johnny finally asked.

         "We don't know, he just opened his folder and went after the girl."

         The folder?  Johnny's eyes flew back to the silver table and found two black folders.  He first examined the opened one, it had a small sheet of paper with the typed words "if you want to live, kill her."  Johnny shook his head as he let the words sink in and then took a look into his own folder.  One small paper laid inside, typed upon it "save her".  It was a good thing it didn't say anything along the lines of "if you want to live", cause frankly, he could care less about living.  He takes the slip of paper and looks around, ignoring all the curious glances until he locks eyes on the girl, the girl someone wants him to save.  Well isn't that ironic, he was to be the hero.
         
         Hands were wrapped around her throat and the shirtless man they belonged too was standing above her, blocking her from Johnny's sight.  His black slacks were dirty and frayed at the bottoms and his barefeet were planted on each side of her chair in his death grip.

         "Get away from her."  Johnny said in a whisper and the man didn't flinch.  "Hey, I said get your hands off  of her."  His voice was a bit more lifted this time but still gained no response.  After a brief moment of remorse for the poor girl, he came to a decision and relaxed down into his chair.  Immediately the disapproving gasps filled the air.

         "She will be fine."  Johnny tried to settle the crowd.

         "You have to save her, how can you just sit there and let that monster kill her?"  The same voice came again.

         Johnny looked over to match the voice to a face.  The short man sitting to his right had an expression of pure disgust and shook his head systematically.  His brown eyes were wide and he looked like he might pass out.  "Please, just help her."  His voice came out in a pleading gentleness Johnny had never heard.  It was honest and selfless and it made Johnny wonder what the girl meant to him.

         "Do you know her?"

         "Does it matter?"

         "Who are you?"

         "Patrick, but my name isn't important, her life is."

         This guy was hell bent on saving the girl and Johnny had a feeling he didn't even know her name.  Why would someone be so desperate to help a stranger?  Something about this Patrick was different and so Johnny proceed to ease his mind.

         "When I said she will be fine, Patrick, it was because I know he won't kill her."

         As the those last six words flowed from Johnny's mouth, a chair down at the other end of the table slammed down onto the cement floors.  "What did you just say?"  A pale man was looking down the table and had his eyes set on Johnny.  "How could you know that he wouldn't kill her?  That's impossible."  His narrow eyes held secrets and searched for the same.

         Johnny was weary of the new comer and choose his next words wisely.  "He is afraid and killer's are usually confident, excited maybe, but hardly afraid."

         Those sharp eyes watched him like a snake, "And how do you know he is afraid?"

         Something about this man made Johnny feel uneasy.  "Two very important factors,"  Johnny rose from his chair and made his way to the damsel in distress.  "One," he kicks out the man's leg and watches him crumble, "he isn't focused.  When one sets out to kill, they concentrate at the task at hand.  And the second and most obvious of reasons,"  Johnny grabs the girls chair and drags it back next to his own, "is that she isn't dead yet."  Johnny picks up the paper out of the attacker's folder, helps him up and slaps the note onto his chest, "don't believe everything you read."  The man caught the note, kept his head down and found his chair.

         Snake eyes down at the end of the table was watching him, "So let me get this straight, you didn't really know that he wouldn't kill her?  Just suspected it from his actions right?"

         "Something like that, yes."

         Johnny looked towards Patrick who was mouthing a thank you and then his eyes found her.  She was completely unconscious and her brown hair was staticy from her struggle.  A big blue bruise, about the size of a thumbprint, on her neck made a wave of guilt wash over him.  "Does anyone know CPR?"  He found himself asking before the thought cleared his mind.

         "I do,"  Patrick said, "but I am also chained to the chair.  I can walk you through it though."

         Johnny starred down at his chained hands and shook his head.

         "If your worried about the chains, don't be, they are far enough apart for you to help her."

         Johnny wasn't afraid of the chains but of what they held, the hands of a killer.  Johnny looked down at her tear stained face and could almost hear her begging for his help.  "Okay, what do I need to do."